To Zee, who’s read every post I’ve ever posted. I know I’m a day late, sorry… I don’t have an explanation good enough to say why I was. But I’m posting this on 1th, so I guess it’s fair enough 😀

We met amongst an olive grove… at the idea of one. And we knew it existed because you said so. We believed you. And you asked me to speak against you, and I did. Today you write facing an olive grove that faces the sea, creating a world of your own in which we all get engulfed in. I wonder if we’d ever see a real olive grove, if we’d pull out a few chairs, sit there and talk all day like we did every single day after school. Maybe when we reach this olive grove we’ll count the olives and when we’re done counting 111, we’ll celebrate. We’ll talk of metal and raspberries and all the shapes of the clouds. The stars. We’ll make a story that the stars can relate to the world when we forget our words. Maybe we never will. Maybe we’ll hold on to the words for longer than we thought we will. And when we’re old and grey and we lack the strength to see each other like we used to, I would write things in which your name would be disguised. I’ll leave you a trail of notes like I once did before. I’ll remember you as the boy who reminded me of strawberries and infinite things. The one with who I ran across a building under construction chasing death eaters. If by then I still haven’t come to face an olive grove, I’ll find myself constantly on your blog, thinking of the times when we wrote in code, when you ran your finger across Roger Frederer’s signature, of the time when your eyes burnt bright with pride and your laughter echoed through my mind. When the air grows dim and the stars come out we’ll connect the dots in the stars and make our own constellations. We’ll draw our stories and names… Taylor Swift and The Goo Goo Dolls. We’ll watch the fireworks burst with pride. We’ll find our way back from the olive grove like you found your way home and every flower left unpicked on the gravel path would remind me of the little milestones I had on wordpress and tumblr, every promise, every Haiku you ever wrote. I’ll think of every question you asked, the day we make the TAPFS symbol, the penguin. When the birds stop singing for the day I’ll think of the day I deleted my twitter account overnight… the hash tag you used for me long before hash tags were so cool. I’ll remember the ice-cream parlor and the number plates and the sentences you never completed. I won’t stop looking for an olive grove, and the moment I see one I’ll find every pretty little confessor and tell them I found it. And on that day, when The Pretty Little Confessors sit in a circle and laugh about the confessions we once made, we’ll look at the sky above us and see the 11 stars shining back at us creating our space in the universe of our infinity. Happy 20th Zee!

LSGMH, #[ “]>

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Oh Wow. Zulaiha… I have no words for how incredible this is. This. Wow. I will always remember this. And You. Reading this felt like a flash of light stepping outside after being indoors for far too long. But instead of just light I saw everything you wrote down here appear in front of me. Thank you for this. This is not enough of a thank you I know. I’m so lucky to know The Little Shy Girl Made Happy. Yes, I think I’ll always remember that name. Maybe when everyone else has forgotten I wills till remember it. So thank you for not only this but for you being you as well. *dies in a flood of feels*

Oh Wow. Zulaiha… I have no words for how incredible this is. This. Wow. I will always remember this. And You. Reading this felt like a flash of light stepping outside after being indoors for far too long. But instead of just light I saw everything you wrote down here appear in front of me. Thank you for this. This is not enough of a thank you I know. I’m so lucky to know The Little Shy Girl Made Happy. Yes, I think I’ll always remember that name. Maybe when everyone else has forgotten I wills till remember it. So thank you for not only this but for you being you as well. *dies in a flood of feels*